


Floral Memoranda

by Watermelonsmellinfellon



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, Flowers, Fluff, Humor, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Possessive Hannibal, Too Many Flowers, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watermelonsmellinfellon/pseuds/Watermelonsmellinfellon
Summary: Based on a prompt by @demisexualmerril on Tumblr: Person A owns a flower shop and Person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”A/N: Link to prompt provided below.





	1. Bonjour, ma petite fleur.

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't help some fluff.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Hannibal.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/). I FOLLOW BACK.**

[Link to prompt.](http://demisexualmerrill.tumblr.com/post/145668425096)

* * *

 

Hannibal’s day was going well. Or as well as his days usually went when dealing with annoying people who couldn’t help but be rude. Still, this day had seemed more serene than many others because no one had come in yet.

Hannibal was able to simply relax with a cup of tea and a good book.

Of course it was around lunch that his peaceful day turned on its heads. Or rather, he finally had a customer.

A man, dressed in a horrid brown jacket, and scuffed denim trousers, burst into the shop, looking furious. He had the shadow of a beard growing, making him appear much older than his young face implied.

His hair was dark, with curls that flopped in every direction. His eyes were a unique shade of blue that Hannibal wasn’t used to seeing in people. Overall, the man was stunning in physical appeal. His attitude left a lot to be desired though.

The man stormed up to the counter and slapped a fifty dollar bill down. His breathing was ragged and he looked ready to spit fire.

“How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower?” the man demanded.

Hannibal was caught for a moment, almost annoyed. But this strange man’s words had brought up many questions. What exactly happened to make him so angry? And why did he feel the need to purchase flowers in order to tell someone off?

Hannibal couldn’t deny his sudden interest, and decided to pardon the man’s foul language in favor of learning more.

Placing his cup on the matching saucer, Hannibal stepped around the counter and crooked a finger, to have the man follow. He smirked when the man flushed suddenly, but looked away and trudged after him.

“For the message of your desire, one would need a rather unique bouquet.”

Hannibal’s fingers trailed over the lavender colored plant he had in mind. “Foxglove,” he told the man. “It stands for ‘insincerity’. It would be a lovely plant flanking the others.”

Hannibal was already taking two stalks.

“Next we have Meadowsweet. It would work nicely as the centerpiece of this particular creation. It stands for uselessness. All the other plants would be simply leading up to this revelation.”

The man accepted the stalk of white, staring at it in contemplation.

Unable to stop his smirk, Hannibal lead him further into the attached greenhouse, waving his arm toward a nearby display of carnations. “This will be our next flower. Carnations have a unique petal design which make them perfect for anything. Yellow is the one we want.”

“Why yellow?” the man asked, nose wrinkled in disgust. Yellow wasn’t the most pleasing of colors, but Hannibal refrained from saying anything.

“Yellow carnations stand for ‘disappointment’. As if you are saying, ‘you have disappointed me’.”

“I like it.”

Hannibal laid only one bloom in the crook of his arm with the Foxglove. The largest, yellow bloom he had.

“Next, we’ll be using some Orange Lilies. They symbolize ‘hatred’, in the most basic of terminology.”

“Good.”

He chose the two best Orange Lilies he could find. Their petals were vibrant and there would be no missing them.

“Finally, geraniums. A few at least, to place at random.”

“What do they stand for?” the man asked.

Hannibal smirked. “’Stupidity’.”

He was slightly charmed when the man laughed. His laugh was low and smooth, and caressed Hannibal’s ears nicely.

“I think the proper color for the ribbon would be black. It is often associated with death and I’m certain you’d like the point made obvious. This relationship is over and there is no possible way to rekindle it.”

“Damn straight.”

Oddly enough, the man’s gruff attitude was adorable. As if he was trying so hard to seem threatening, and was just coming across as cute to Hannibal.

Hannibal took his findings along, leading the man back to the main part of the shop. “I’ll fix these up for you.”

“Good luck. These colors look horrible together.”

He spared an amused smile. Some people would never understand the subtle beauty even within the ugliness of life. But that was okay.

Hannibal wrapped black tissue paper around the carefully prepared bundled and finished the work with an elaborate, black ribbon tied to keep the flowers in place.

“That will be thirty-seven fifty, Mr….”

“Graham. Will Graham,” the man answered, pushing the fifty across the counter.

“It’s been a pleasure, Will. I’m Hannibal Lecter.”

The man shook his hand quickly, eyes avoidant and flush ever present.

How charming.

“Thanks again,” Will said, lifting the bouquet carefully in one hand and his change in the other.

Hannibal stared at the man’s shapely rump as he walked out the door, slightly sad to see him leaving.

The rest of his day was boring.

* * *

 

To his immense pleasure, Will Graham was back a week later, stomping into the shop and walking right up to the counter to slam another fifty down.

“How do you say ‘I like you’, in flower?”

Hannibal could feel the growing annoyance of jealousy building suddenly. He was also tempted to do the rude thing and lie by giving the man the wrong flowers, but Hannibal had more class than that. Surely he would be able to outdo anyone who may have caught Will Graham’s interest?

“Come,” the man ordered, voice suave and borderline erotic. As expected, Will Graham blushed. It was a lovely shade of pink on his skin. He could probably force other shades of pink as well, in the future.

“Gardenias are lovely, and actually mean ‘you are lovely’ or ‘secretly in love with you’.”

Hannibal chose several of his best blooms, and moved on toward another section of the wall. “White Violets mean, ‘let us chance happiness’. A subtle desire for more than what is already there. Simple, yet beautiful.”

Will eyed the growing bouquet intensely. As if they held all the answers. Hannibal had to squash the small niggling of distaste. He was more responsible than this!

“Finally, I think you would benefit from a scarlet Zinnia being your centerpiece. They stand for ‘constancy’ and promise loyalty in all things. A touching message.”

Hannibal arranged the blossoms accordingly, smiling to himself. It was a lovely collection, and he was envious of the receiver. Still, another beautiful work of art made by his hands. He was proud of it.

“I suggest a white ribbon to show purity of intention.”

He even used white tissue paper.

“Nineteen seventy-five, please?”

Will handed over the necessary payment and accepted his order with care. Hannibal gave his change over, and was ready to watch the man leave again, when Will Graham suddenly held out the bouquet Hannibal had just made and asked, “Would you like to go for coffee?”

Hannibal’s surprise morphed into satisfaction, and he accepted the gift with a smile, unable to stop himself from scenting the blooms. Lovely, just as he had made them.

And Will Graham was asking him out on a date. Not someone else. _Hannibal_.

“I’d love to,” the man smiled, already reaching for his keys. “I know a lovely shop a few blocks away.”

Will sputtered as Hannibal moved to put his newly acquired bouquet into a vase of water. Said vase was displayed proudly on the counter, so that everyone may see the flowers.

“Shall we?” Hannibal asked.

“Yeah.”

This was a beautiful beginning. Hannibal could tell.

* * *

 

**A/N: DONE!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**Check out my other Hannigram fics!**

**See ya! :D**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**


	2. Annonce en fleur.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy sequel to wrap it up! It's a year into their relationship now!

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Hannibal.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/). I FOLLOW BACK.**

[Link to prompt.](http://demisexualmerrill.tumblr.com/post/145668425096)

* * *

 Will came home tired and exhausted. His work was very draining and the people he was stuck working with even more so. He might need to send another bouquet within the week.

It wasn’t like he could expect everyone to become tolerable.

He went to toss his keys on the table, and paused in shock.

There was a bouquet on the table. There were always flowers around the house, but Will could tell immediately that these were different. Very different. Almost a complete one eighty from the norm.

After dating Hannibal for almost a year, he was made very much aware of his lover’s adoration of any kind of flora. Hannibal loved many things, but food, flowers, and Will took precedence in all of his interests.

Will had not only been getting lessons on how to cook, but also how to speak ‘flower’. Since he’d intruded upon Hannibal too many times when he was in need of assistance, his lover had finally decided to just teach him.

Will wasn’t perfect, but he was better than some. Better than one might expect.

There were bunches of Pacific Madrone. White and bubbling. They stood for love. However, it was ‘I only love you’ that was the true meaning. Hannibal was often not vocal with his feelings. He chose to speak in actions more often then not. Will’s fingers trailed over the small flowers.

Red Camellias dotted the bouquet as well, telling him that Hannibal’s love was deep and burning. ‘You set my heart aflame’, as Hannibal had taught him. They emphasized the meaning of the Pacific Madrone very well.

A few stalks of blue Hyacinth were added to the flanks, almost guarding the message within. ‘Constancy’. A promise of continued love.

White Primrose were placed around the centerpiece. They meant, ‘I cannot live without you’.

Finally came the centerpiece, which was what the entire bouquet was supposed to lead up to, or so Hannibal claimed.

A cluster of Cleomes, or Spider Flowers as some called them. Cleome hassleriana. Pink and reaching. As if there were hundreds of little arms demanding hugs.

A Cleome was an invitation to elope.

Marriage.

Will’s heart pounded at the revelation. Instead of just ordering him a hundred roses and presenting a ring, Hannibal had put this together. Marriage was one thing, but acknowledging his feelings and stating them so clearly meant so much more.

Hannibal wanted to marry Will Graham. Grumpy, underdressed, Will Graham. With his thousands of dogs, plaid shirts, and slow to grow beard.

Will smiled and turned. He had to respond after all. It would be rude not to.

* * *

Will was in the shower when Hannibal got home. He was unable to bestow a kiss upon his lover’s lips, which was a little saddening, but then Hannibal recalled how they lived in the same house and that he had access to Will all the time.

Suddenly, his sadness passed. He would simply have to surprise his lover.

When Hannibal turned on the light of he and his darling’s bedroom, he didn’t expect to see flowers on his bed. Usually they were kept in vases on either end table.

But indeed, there were white flowers. Orange Blossoms in fact, situated in such a way that they formed a perfect heart in the center of the large bed. In the very center was a single, red rose.

Such flowers were considered by many legends and countries, as a bridal flower. Particularly one worn on the wedding day, either in the clothing, hair, or bouquet itself.

And a red rose meant ‘love’.

The blond couldn’t help but smile at the meaning.

The shower shut off suddenly, making his head snap to the side as the scent of a particular floral soap reached his senses. Hannibal had bought it for Will’s last birthday. The man used it sparingly, except when he wanted to surprise Hannibal with it.

The washroom door opened, revealing Will as naked as the day he was born. He leaned against the doorway and smiled.

“Where’s my ‘hello’ kiss?”

Overcome by sudden emotion, Hannibal closed the distance between them in three steps, pulling his lover into his arms and kissing him for all he was worth.

Will’s enchanting laughter was muffled by Hannibal's mouth, which was busy beginning its mapping out of the man’s wet skin. His deliciously wet skin.

“Did I… do it right?” the man gasped, tilting his head back to allow Hannibal better access.

The blond merely moaned his answer, far too preoccupied with marking that gorgeous throat.

“Then take me, _husband_.”

He did. Very thoroughly.

* * *

 

**A/N: DONE!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**Check out my other Hannigram fics!**

**See ya! :D**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/). I FOLLOW BACK.**

**Author's Note:**

> How was it?


End file.
